The Lost Princess
by Pawpels
Summary: A prequel to the events of Tangled from Cassandra's point of view


By the time I became aware of the Lost Princess, she was already a part of my world.

I was too young to remember a time before her birth, or the horrific kidnapping that followed. My first memory of the Princess was staring up at a mural of her as my father dragged me away through the crowded market place. She looked so peaceful, I didn't even register that she was missing. In my mind, she simply lay there, on that wall, swaddled in violet cloth and juxtaposed against a shining yellow sun—content to sleep forever as the common folk went about their daily lives all around her.

Over the years, more and more murals cropped up around the kingdom, each more beautiful than the last. No two artists had the same vision of the princess, and they expressed it each in turn. Some portrayed her as an infant, or toddler, or young child, depending on how many years had passed since her birth. Others imagined that she was already an adult, and had been taken into the forest to provide aid and relief to the animals who lived there, though she couldn't have been older than ten when the last mural was painted. Some even depicted her triumphant return to Corona, as she embraced her elegant and stately mother and father, and affirmed that the kingdom would be safe forever more. The one thing that no painting lacked was the princess' elegant blonde hair, and those sparkling green eyes, which had barely a chance to take in Corona's beauty before their owner was snatched away into the night.

By the time I had confirmed that the Princess was indeed missing, I'd already built a place for her in my heart.

I was a lonely child. My father never strayed far from his troops, and I never strayed far from him. I trained to be a lady-in-waiting, and I trained to be a warrior. I never trained to be a nice person. I never had any friends. Still, I never let it get to me. When I hosted my tea parties, the Lost Princess was always there. When I got dressed in the morning, I asked her what I ought to wear, and she'd tell me that I looked perfect in anything, but suggest that I pack an extra dagger today, just in case. When I had an especially triumphant bout, I imagined her watching me in the stands, cheering me on, or mocking my opponent for his poor footwork and shoddy form. Sometimes she would even blow me a kiss, and I'd catch it on the sly and put it in my pocket, or hold it to my cheek and pretend I could feel its warmth. She was beautiful and smart and though I'd never met her, I was in love with her all the same.

By the time I'd reached sixteen, I knew I had to find her.

In so many ways, the kingdom had moved on from her, but the king and queen still mourned. As I was allowed more frequent visits to the palace, I could feel their sadness more intensely than ever before. I spent my nights searching the castle for secrets, and eventually discovered a tunnel that had long been abandoned leading all the way to Corona's walls. It was then that I knew I was destined to find her.

I saddled my horse and rode out as far as I could each night, picking a new direction each time. I stopped in every seedy tavern I could find. I questioned every highwayman and thief. I tracked down mob-bosses and held them at knifepoint in their beds, daring them to lie to me, or leave me with an answer that was not to my satisfaction.

People had heard of the Lost Princess, sure, but no one had ever seen her. Many thought it must have been a thieves guild that took her, but no ransom was ever demanded, and not even the lowliest, most expendable coward was able to impart any information as to her whereabouts. When I'd exhausted my options searching at night, I told my father I had been given a special delivery assignment by the king himself, and took a full week to stampede across the countryside, searching high and low for someone that I was being told with greater frequency must be dead.

Still, I never gave up hope. I loved her with every fiber of my being. I needed to see her, and hear her gentle voice, and touch her golden tresses, and caress her silky soft cheek and call her mine. I wanted to hold her, and protect her, and stand behind her as she took her seat on the throne. On top of my daily duties at the palace, and my father's rigorous training, I had dedicated the last six years of my life to finding her. I needed to find her. I had to find her.

How, then, do you think I felt when at last she returned to us on the arm of the bastard thief who stole my kingdom's crown?


End file.
